


Ten Years Passed that Night

by KrokoRobin, Pandir



Category: Edge of Tomorrow (2014)
Genre: Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1834987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrokoRobin/pseuds/KrokoRobin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alien wars can be won, humanity can be saved. But experiencing death every twenty four hours on average over the course of roughly six months will leave its marks on your psyche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years Passed that Night

**Author's Note:**

> Since I couldn't quite figure out how many loops Bill went through, I went with the novel, which states that it's been 160.
> 
> All my thanks to Sam for being beta!

 In the news they said that there were plans on constructing a monument in the middle of Paris, where the Louvre Pyramid had been situated. Subsequently, there was going to be a documentation on the central organism that apparently had controlled the Mimics, and a panel show involving numerous scientists trying to explain why its life had come to such an abrupt end. As a reminder, they cut back to the old report that had been filmed by the “fearless Major William Cage”, right after the sudden defeat of the Mimics. 

 Yet that he had been there when the Omega had been defeated, just about nobody suspected.

 Bill knew attempts to convince the barkeeper to change the channel were futile. As he looked around, he saw that almost everyone in the small pub was staring at the screen, mystified, perplexed, incredulous… happy.

 And how could they not? Even he had been taken by surprise by the war’s end, despite that for him it had lasted half a year longer than for everybody else.

 Well, not everybody else.

 There was one other person aware of what had happened, one other person who had gone through the same. As soon as Rita had heard about the news, she had already suspected a loop behind it, so when he had told her his, no,  _their_  story, she’d believed him right away. As always. They’d gotten along. Bill liked seeing her face, and when every now and then he called, she answered and agreed to meet up with him.

 Even though Rita had been busy, travelling from place to place as the UDF made sure the Mimic threat was gone for good, she had been in touch with him. Now she still had a lot on her list, mostly participating at speeches and celebrations as the poster soldier of Special Forces, but she was less keen on that. Publicity stunts weren’t her forté, and as relieved as she was that the war was over, she’d have preferred it if there’d been a new task to focus on.

 

 Rita gave little notice to the television and made straight for the table where Bill was sitting.

 Bill’s face lit up when she approached and Rita found it impossible not to smile at him. “Hey”, she said simply as she threw her jacket over an empty chair, and before he could start, she added, “I’ll get me drink.”

 It was nice, sitting with Bill and sipping on her pint. They rarely talked about the war now. They had a mutual understanding that they had more than their good share of that.

 For someone so talkative, he was astonishingly pleasant company. Even when he kept asking questions, genuinely interested in what she was up to, he didn’t expect detailed accounts and accepted Rita’s rather weary “the usual” with an understanding nod.

 ”That’s enough about me”, she decided, leaning forward on her crossed arms. “What have you been up to?”

 ”Oh well”, Bill said, with his promotional toothy grin. He shrugged. “There’s a lot to do of course! Lots of interviews, lots of bureaucracy, lots of discussions. People want to know where we’ll go from here.” He trailed off for an instant, as if he had lost his train of thoughts. But the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, and his smile was back in place. “Of course I’m glad for it! All these people have put their trust us, and now-“

 Rita gave him a look, and when that didn’t work, she cut in.

 ”Bill, can it. I don’t need the whole promo talk”, she said with a sigh, albeit a good-natured one. To make him get to the point, she rephrased her question, adding emphasis. “How are you?”

 Of course Bill knew Rita better than he probably should, knew her mannerisms and quirks, knew her voice and her expressions. But what he still hadn’t figured out was why she was so good at reading him, even though she did not remember the months he spent with her.

 He lowered his head and smiled again, differently now. Without teeth, without the squared shoulders. “Yeah. Right.” He took a deep breath, interlaced his fingers around his pint, and finally looked up, only to be met by Rita’s scrutinizing gaze. “I’m fine!”, he said placatingly. “I’m doing well. Maybe even better than I did before Downfall. It’s hard work, but that’s nothing new.”

 She nodded, but her expression didn’t soften. “That sounds good.” Maybe it was a hint of exhaustion, just around his eyes, or maybe it was the act he had put on before, but something was off and Rita could be very observant. “But you seem stressed.”

 Of course Rita was right. He was a bit tired. Which was… unusual. Bill had always considered himself a generally sunny person. He had always loved his job, and he still did. Yet there was no denying it that he had problems keeping up lately. Where two years ago there had been an eternal spring of energy, he felt like there was nothing left but a bog. He sometimes felt worn out in the early afternoon already.

 But there was no way he could tell Rita. She had her own problems to deal with and no reason or time to care about his minor ailments. Only that lying to her wouldn’t do any good either.

 So, truthfully, he answered: “I’ve not been sleeping very well.”

 That admission was enough for Rita to let him off the hook. She didn’t have to dig, restless nights and troubled sleep was something she was familiar with. And otherwise, Bill seemed to be doing fine.

 ”Get some pills, those help”, she said.

 He gave an affirming nod, thankful that she was ready to drop the topic. He had already gotten a prescription for sleeping pills, but there was no need to mention that.

 For a few minutes or so they sat there, caught up in their own thoughts, every now and then taking a sip from their drinks.

He’d missed her stern silences.

 ”The UDF is making progress”, he stated eventually. “There’s already talk of disbanding in a few years. Any plans?”

 ”It’s not certain what will become of us, but either way, I’ll stay in the military”, Rita declared. She had been working hard to get to where she was now, and she really couldn’t see herself anywhere else. ”And when I finally get a break from all that”, she gave a nod to the television, where the documentary was elaborating on the mysteries of their miraculous victory. “I won’t be needed for Special Forces, at least not in combat. So who knows. Maybe I’ll give some training”, she closed with a slightly crooked smile.

 ”Well, you managed to train me, I’m sure you could train anyone”, he said with a laugh, but his tone was earnest and she knew he meant it.

 ”We’ll see”, Rita replied, but she was still smiling as she put the pint to her lips.

 Bill wondered whether Rita had taken that compliment more seriously if she had actually lived through the hours and hours of training she had put him through to make him at least somewhat capable of survival. He recalled her exasperated groans and the way she rolled her eyes, and laughed.

 ”No, honestly! Everyone considered me a goner, myself included!”

 It might have been hard for Rita to believe that, since she had met him as a soldier with more than solid skills, but somehow, when she looked at him laughing and remembered how he talked about himself, his life as it had been, it wasn’t too far of a stretch. He was actually not the soldier type, but oddly enough, that was what she had come to appreciate about him.

 ”Good thing that I don’t remember that”, she quipped.

 The evening progressed, the pub filled with people, and Rita was starting to get restless. She’d never been a drinker, but more importantly, she wasn’t too comfortable in crowded places.   
It was Bill, however, who suddenly suggested that instead of buying another round, they could get some fresh air and go for a walk.

 And really, with the chill evening breeze on her face, Rita felt much more at ease. They walked in silence down the street, side by side, before Rita decided that Bill was actually unusually quiet.

 ”So”, she said, to get him out of his thoughts, “how is it, being stationed in England? You like it here?”

 ”Yeah, I think I’m getting rather fond of the bridges in particular.” He gestured to Blackfriars Bridge, which they were passing, colourfully illuminated against the darkening sky. “And the people are especially pleasant. Their support for the UDF, despite everything they went through, is inspiring!”

 Rita gave his shoulder a punch to make him cut his laudation.

 ”I keep telling mom she and dad should come over, but they’re too scared.” He snorted. “Bunch of fraidy cats. I can’t hold it against them though. They’re getting old. Be glad you don’t have to put up with that.”

 There are these moments when you’re not quite finished saying something, but you already regret it.

 It had started out in his head as a light-hearted comment. It’s not like he meant it anyway. It’s just that sometimes he mixed up how well they really knew each other, confused a day, circumstances when Rita had taken that last sentence much more lightly.

 But today, Rita wasn’t even aware she had once told him about her mother, her father, her village. He didn’t need to look at her to know her expression had frozen. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, as always. She could put two and two together.

 None of them could do anything against it. But he had seen her react to him knowing things about her that she was not ready to tell him. And as much as he cherished his memories with her, if he could have erased them all to make Rita feel safe, he would have done it without a second thought.

 They were about to cross a street.

 He wanted to look at Rita, wanted to apologize.

 At his feet was the street with its racing lights and noise, the deathly force of wheels and metal beckoning.

 The next thing he remembered where a pair of glaring headlights, before he felt himself getting yanked back violently, causing him to stumble, fall over and his behind to make the painful acquaintance of the pavement.

Rita grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him up with a strong iron grip. ”What”, her tone was urgent, her churned up feelings about his faux pas momentarily forgotten, “were you thinking?” When he did not react immediately, bewildered, like a deer in the headlight, she shook him, once, to make him focus. ”Bill”, she said, with emphasis. “You could have died.”

 His first thought was that this had kind of been the point.

 But now that he was here, his ears still ringing and his brain only slowly catching up, it began to sink in what he had just done.

 ”I thought I…”, he mumbled while Rita helped him get up and over to a shop windowsill, where he sat down again. “I was just going to start over…”

 He didn’t have to say more, Rita already knew. He had slipped. After looping for months, it was hard to keep a grasp on the here and now, where time was linear and death mattered. 

 Though she couldn’t fathom why he’d walk in front of a car in the middle of a conversation, however awkward it was. Her hand was still on Bill’s shoulder. “If you die now”, she said, stern, but calmer, to give him time to take this in, “you die for good.”

 He nodded slowly, head still spinning. The words echoed in his head, but he could barely process them. He was out of the loop. There was no restart. Death was permanent.

 The realization came down on him like a heavy weight had suddenly been lowered onto his chest. He had almost killed himself.

 His heart skipped a beat, and he took a panicked, deep breath. It took all his concentration to exhale again. His heart thumped against his ribs, slowly, erratically. It was a good thing Rita was there to steady him, or else he would probably have keeled over.

 Rita did not let go of his shoulder, nor soften her grip even for a second, when she pulled out her phone to call a taxi. She’d had enough suffocating moments of anxiety to recognize when someone was on the verge of a panic attack. They had to get Bill somewhere safe and contained, where he could calm down. It was late, so her apartment would be the best option for now. It wasn’t too far away, and he was familiar with the place. She made sure the taxi driver knew it was an emergency, then she bowed down to Bill, her face on his eye level.

 ”Bill, look at me”, she said, keeping him steady and her voice quiet, yet firm. Comforting was not something she was particularly good at, but she could give him some grounding. “Calm down. Deep and slow breaths. The taxi will be here soon.”

 Hearing her voice alone kept him from hyperventilating. One of his hands shot up to grasp hers, seeking for support. Time went by in a blur as he tried to keep the smothering panic from rising through his guts, in his chest and over his head.

 He must’ve had failed to do so, because as he came to his senses again, he was lying on the old couch in Rita’s small, unorderly apartment. With a weary sigh, he sat up, carefully, to see where she was. On the coffee table beside him, there was a bottle of water. Inwardly, he sent off a quick prayer of thanks for the existence of Rita Vrataski, like he had done so many times already.

 He had taken a few greedy gulps and put down the bottle by the time she entered the room.

 When she saw he was up, she came over, standing by the couch to leave him some space, and regarded him thoroughly. It seemed he had regained his senses again, but he was rather pale and his movements still a bit jittery. Rita wasn’t sure how well he was pulling himself together right now.

 Her first urge was to supply some support, but she also vividly remembered how much she hated people getting too close to her when she was trying to get a grip on herself.

 ”How do you feel?”, she asked, instead.

 ”Okay”, he answered after a brief pause where he tried to figure out what exactly his body was doing right now. When her furrowed brows stayed furrowed, he admitted “I’ve been better.”

 Putting his feet down on the floor, he felt his head swim a little again, but it subsided within a few seconds. He didn’t dare to attempt any heroics yet, like… standing up. “It’s okay, I’m going to be fine”, he reassured her without looking up, and he heard her sigh. She sat down beside him, respectfully keeping her distance, and he was grateful for it. He wasn’t sure whether she expected an explanation. Or whether she really needed one.

 ”You want to talk about it?”, she asked finally.

 He hesitated. Then he took a few more sips from his water bottle. Then he cleared his throat. Then he drummed his fingers against the bottle for a bit, which made a funny noise. “I don’t think there’s much to… talk about”, he murmured. He thought about what had happened. Thought about this initial impulse. “Seems like I forgot for a moment that I’m not in the loop anymore.”

 That much was obvious, but she didn’t point it out. He needed this moment, he needed to wrap his head around it.

 ”You have problems adjusting”, Rita nodded. “I know, I would sometimes get it mixed up, too.” She didn’t tell him however that she had never tried anything suicidal, especially outside of missions.

 ”Just- don’t try to kill yourself. Even if you could, there’d be no point in resetting time now.” After a short moment of silence, she added, “You did want to loop, right?” Her gaze was on him again.

 ”I suppose.” He shrugged helplessly. “But I can’t recall what the reason was.” The last thing he could remember was Blackfriars Bridge, and after that there was nothing but blank space in his memory.

 Rita took a breath. It was hard not to grab him, to talk sense into him and make sure he’d never try that again. “There was no reason”, she tried to make this as clear as possible. “No reason to reset, no reason to die. It was just a conversation gone wrong.”

 Now it came all back to him. Right. He had put his foot in his mouth. Big time. He cringed and shifted uncomfortably.

 ”Was that really enough?”, Rita asked, trying to keep her voice down, but unable to hide that she was getting upset. “Was that it? Would you always reset over something like this?”

 He lowered his head and stared down on the floor. “I couldn’t…”

 ”Couldn’t what, deal with some minor awkwardness?”

 ”I couldn’t face you!”, he blurted out, his face buried in his hands now. “I couldn’t! I was too afraid of it, okay?”

 To that, Rita fell silent. She pursed her lips and cursed under her breath. She knew she had gotten carried away just now. This whole thing was a bit too close to home for her. Yes, she knew what it was like to die for another chance. But to be willing to die over such a minor inconvenience! The way Bill had just strolled right onto the middle of the street, casually accepting death, because to him it seemed to be an easier route out of a tricky situation than just talking it out…

 She got pulled out of her thoughts by a noise. It was Bill. He was shaking. His hands still pressed to his face, he convulsed in suffocated sobbing.

 Rita didn’t know when she had last felt this paralyzed.

 How often had he been like this.

 How often had she been like this.

 Leaning forward, his head between his knees and his upper body supported by his weakening thighs, his dark hair was now tickling her fingertips.

 She was not the right person for this situation. There was a lump in her throat that kept her from speaking, and still she didn’t move. But there was no one else present, and Bill was crying, for heaven’s sake. She was the only person for this situation.

 When she put her hand on his head, it was almost overly careful, and for a moment, she felt just as helpless as she had when she’d been trying to pull the shards of herself together.

 And then, she started stroking his hair, slowly, a bit awkwardly at first. It helped her focus, on this situation, on Bill - and oddly enough, as she continued to pet his head, listening to his choked sobbing, Rita felt more composed again.

 ”It’s okay”, Rita found herself telling him, as she got down on her knees to pull him closer. “It’s okay”, she repeated, because she didn’t know what else to say.

 And finally, Bill moved. His tensed up arms dropped to the floor, then he lifted them to tentatively put his hands on Rita’s shoulders, holding onto her, his temple resting against Rita’s embracing arm.

 He hadn’t even been aware of these feelings that he had tried to outrun. It was now that he realized it was futile to run from something he kept bottled up inside of himself. Letting it all out with somebody whom he trusted so utterly watching over him, he felt, for the first time in weeks… relieved.

 ”I’m sorry”, he croaked. Now that had sounded a lot more pathetic than necessary.

 Rita chuckled.

 Maybe he wasn’t the only one who would have to face his fears.

 And maybe it wasn’t for the worst.


End file.
